


Hootenannyorgyhellfest 2012

by loveinadoorway



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, My First Work in This Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-28
Updated: 2012-08-28
Packaged: 2017-11-13 02:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/498377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveinadoorway/pseuds/loveinadoorway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>LJ comment_fic prompt by hpfangirl71: Teen Wolf, Stiles/Derek, The day Stiles and Derek almost admit to what they feel for one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hootenannyorgyhellfest 2012

“Dude, do you even realize the magnitude of the colossality.. colossalness.. the goddamned HUGE of the shit I’m in?”

Stiles, for all his drunken ranting and raving, is actually closer to tears than anything else.  
His father would kill him.

It was supposed to just be a nice, laid back kind of a party, really.  
A gathering, definitely, not even a shindig. But it was never, EVER, not even in Stiles’s most insane imaginings supposed to have turned into something that went even beyond a hootenanny. You know, as per Buffy’s Oz’s quintessential definition of the three types of party - a gathering being brie, mellow song stylings; shindig, dip, less mellow song stylings, perhaps a large amount of malt beverage; and hootenanny, well, it's chock full of hoot, just a little bit of nanny.  

Too much hoot, way too much nanny and a fucking truckload of everything else that was unwholesome, illegal and destructive.

In short, Stilinski Manor (not your chic type of villa on the best of days) looked like it had been hit by first the Wild Hunt, then some pillaging Vikings, then a buffalo stampede and finally been done over by a steamroller. And it smelled twice as bad as all that.

Derek looked at Stiles, crouching on the dirty floor, ash white, very drunk but unfortunately way too lucid. Painfully aware, as a matter of fact, that he had until his dad’s shift ended to get his affairs in order and prepare for his imminent death by parental wrath.

Derek’s fist slowly unfurled and he wished he could just reach out and run his hand carefully across Stiles’ cheek. He wished he knew how to give comfort. He wished he knew how to tell this stupid boy with the too big eyes and the severe case of verbal diarrhea about all those crazy, scary, dangerous feelings he tried to bury as far down inside of him as he could.

As it were, he did the only thing he knew how to do, he called in the Pack.  
Oh, they did so not want to do this, but he just took the entire thing as an opportunity to reinforce the knowledge that he was Alpha and THEY had to obey. A practical lesson in Pack rules.

You had to hand it to the wolves, they really knew how to spruce a place up in record time. Stiles was looking around himself in awe. Three hours and the place looked almost as good as new and he had an hour left to shower and turn himself into something that wouldn’t scream “call in the intervention team” at his dad.

When he went back downstairs, fresh from the shower and hoping he hadn’t hallucinated the epic clean-up job, Derek was leaning against the kitchen counter, slowly drinking the last cold beer in the house. Probably the last cold beer in town, given the size of that… hootenannyorgyhellfest.

Damn, that man was too hot for his own good.  
Stiles sighed dolefully. If only Derek weren’t all THAT hot. If he were a notch less un-be-fucking-lievable. If only he were more like a normal, average type dude. Like someone one could actually imagine would look at something as pathetic as Stiles. Then he could maybe make a move, could maybe get the right kinds of words to tumble from his mouth at the right time, could maybe get laid, could maybe not die of masturbation-induced cardiac arrest tonight. Could maybe be loved. Yeah, rrrright, AS IF, Stilinski.

As it were, he simply slapped Derek on the back in what he hoped was a manly fashion and said:

“Okay, you guys are hired. Twice a week, I pay minimum wages and you bring your own cleaning gear.”


End file.
